finally getting to this now that I'm familiar with one of the series:

    Clear skies revealed the city below, its own noisy light drowning
out the starry heavens and the full moon above.  Towards the outskirts
of the city, on the upper hillsides where civilization had just begun
encroaching on the wilderness, a wind stirred.  It wound its way
cautiously through the branches of old trees, through the skeletal
frames of buildings that were still under construction.

    The wind bore the faintest scent of blood.  Of hatred.  Of ...
wrongness.

Nice way to set the mood.

    Thickening like a tangible thing, the breeze slowed, swirling, and
darkening until it formed a slowly rotating mass dark enough to hide
whatever lay within from both the light of the moon and the light of the
city that sprawled below.

I'd be more colorful in language rather than just saying 'light... light'.
'dull glow of humanity' for the second or somesuch. Perhaps something else
for the first. It'll help set the mood.

    It contracted briefly, from the span of an entire rooftop, to

not sure if you need that comma

 merely

twice the size of a man.  It began to whirl more violently, then
suddenly drew back, revealing a form in the center of the wind.  It drew

used 'drew' twice, I'd change one of them.

back cautiously, slowing its movement.

    Unclad, he slumped to his knees, eyes closed, and put his hands
before him, kneeling, to steady himself.

    A single line of dark wind brushed his cheek, ruffled his hair, and
then drew back.

another 'drew' here.

 He would have been taller than most men his apparent

age.

Pretty much saying that's not his age, then. :)

 Young, but in his twenties.  His hair was short, but longer than

most businessmen would wear theirs.

businessmen? That seems like an odd comparison.

His build was more muscular than an

average man, but less developed than an athlete.

That's better.

    The wind intensified, and the man stood, closing his eyes again, and
throwing his head back, his face to the moon.  The darkness enveloped
him, covering everything but his fingertips for a long minute, and when
it drew back, he was dressed in a clean suit, gray as his hair.  His
eyes opened, again, still shining the color of blood.

Man: Boy, do I need some Visine to get this red out.

    He nodded, staring out across the bright city.  He glanced behind
him at the dark swirling force, and frowned.  "There's--"  He cut off
abruptly as a single tendril of darkness separated from the rest of the
mass, and settled into

into or onto?

    The whirling force rose above the rooftop, as though to vanish back
into the forest that had birthed it, then paused, and swirled around the
man one last time, leaving a large duffel bag behind as it vanished.
"Thank you, Mother," the man whispered as the wind faded.

She does seem to provide well, doesn't she? :)

    The late afternoon sun seemed dim, before it even began to set.
Thin light filtering in through the windows of the room, seeming

Two 'seemed/ing' close together. I'd change one

 only

barely to illuminate it.

I'd change to 'barely illumiunating' more precise and easier to understand
while still getting the message across.

 There were two figures within.

    The other, a nondescript young man with glasses and brown hair, sat
on the other bed, watching her warily.  He was dressed in a dark
high-school uniform, and held a knife in one hand, the blade folded away
neatly into the handle.

    "Why is this happening to me?" he asked quietly.  "What's going on
here?"

Don't know. Why don't you continue it, Bri? :)

DB Sommer

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